Patina vs. Verdigris vs. Rust

I thought today "What is the difference between patina and verdigris?" and "Why don't we just call it rust?" Patina is my descriptor of choice, but I very well know what verdigris means, I just have no need to use it myself.

PATINA: Italian, from Latin, plate (from the incrustation on ancient metal plates and dishes)

1. A thin greenish layer, usually basic copper sulfate, that forms on copper or copper alloys, such as bronze, as a result of corrosion.
2. The sheen on any surface, produced by age and use.
3. A change in appearance produced by long-standing behavior, practice, or use: a face etched with a patina of fine lines and tiny wrinkles.

VERDIGRIS: Middle English vertegrez, from Old French verte grez, alteration of vert-de-Grice : verd, green; of + Grice, Greece (roughly translated that is: Green-of-Greece; Grecian Green)

1. A blue or green powder consisting of basic cupric acetate used as a paint pigment and fungicide.
2. A green patina or crust of copper sulfate or copper chloride formed on copper, brass, and bronze exposed to air or seawater for long periods of time.

RUST: Middle English, from Old English rust; from reudh- (redness) in Indo-European roots

1. Any of various powdery or scaly reddish-brown or reddish-yellow hydrated ferric oxides formed on iron and iron-containing materials by low-temperature oxidation in the presence of water.
2. Any of various metallic coatings, especially oxides, formed by corrosion.


So it seems that I would be slightly more correct refering to the green oxidation of church spires as verdigris rather than patina.

In Summary:
Patina = the actual plating or coating of the copper sulphate,
Verdigris = the greenish colour originating from something copper,
Rust = red, ferric oxide

Roadkill Review

I walked out to Kaiapoi (and most of the way back) today. 27kms all up. Along the country roads I came across a few dead animals in different stages of decomposition: Two large animals (one possum and one cat or possum), ten birds (including a pheasant, two blackbirds, a thrush and a silvereye [I couldn't tell what the others were as they were too far gone -just feathers plastered to the road]) and five hedgehogs (now I see why they have such a reputation).

Ok, so, it's been on my "To Do" List for over a week and I've finally done it. I washed the dishes. Sometimes there are more important thing to do than dishes. Such as: reading the paper, blogging, reading other blogs, learning new and interesting facts, screen-sucking GoogleEarth (for a purpose tho. -planning trips), writing emails, MSPainting, out with friends, etc etc and the list goes on, which all goes to prove that there is a life apart from dishes and anyone who says otherwise doesn't have one.

Gastropodan Mucus

In common English, that's slugs and snails and the locomotive secrections thereof.

We all know they leave those silvery trails, but why? Well, gastropods propel themselves by the ingenious method of using their muscles to generate travelling waves of stress in the thin layers of (foul-tasting, {do not ask me how I know such things}) mucus they lay down.

Mathematicians have calculated that producing the mucus accounts for the largest component in the gastropod's energy budget, more than twenty times the amount of mechanical work used in crawling (which let's face it, isn't very much -though they do have to lug their home around on their backs, I'll give them credit for that). So it behooves them to produce the least amount of mucus they can get away on. This they do using "shear-thinning" - a phenomenon whereby the viscosity of the mucus falls when it is between two surfaces that are moving relative to one another (in this case the ground and their muscular foot). Shear-thinning allows the gastropod to crawl while using the least amount of fluid and thus decreasing the overall energetic cost of locomotion.

So next time you see a schneken trekkin' and it's wallowing in a pool of it's own mucus you'll know it ain't gonna get very far (not any time soon leastways). And if you're into snail racing it'll pay you to bet on the driest one.

Tongue Tied

These are some of the words I cant say properly (or have to concentrate really hard before saying): Abominably, magnanamously, bueracracy, phenomenon, femininity and the worst of them all: anoniminity. Go on you try saying that then.

Ornithological Observations

One swallow doth not a summer make, so the saying goes... and by the looks of things I'd say that's so. Technically, we are still in Winter's grip but, yesterday at a friends hockey game I noticed a lone swallow. Note, a LONE swallow, so no Summer for a while yet!

I walked out to Hornby on Saturday and passed a few factories, demolition yards, vacant lots and such, as you do out that way. Apart from the usual spadgies, blackbirds and starlings etc I was priviliged to see: a Dunnock fosicking in the undergrowth, a couple of Chaffinches and I almost stepped on a little flock of Goldfinches (I don't think they expected me to be there). Finally, I saw the largest flock of Redpolls I've ever seen (I only saw them definitely on one other occasion) about a dozen there were, but only for a few seconds before they flitted off in a single wave.

Telephone Book Bag

Reading things like this brightens my day just that little bit more. The new telephone books were delivered today, in a happy yellow bag emblazoned with the message:

CAUTION: MAY CONTAIN NUTS ...and bolts, and nails, and wood, and carpenters, and roofers, and architects, and landscape gardeners, and doctors, and midwives, and daycare, and education facilities, and driving instructiors, and car dealers, and lawyers, and armed forces, and tertiary education providers, and travel agents, and divorce lawyers, and real estate agents, and financial advisors, and dating services, and retirement villages, and funeral directors...

Dilema Die Datum

I had a dream.
Someone asked me what month it was and simultaneously implied it was October. To which I replied that October = almost November = almost the end of the year, and that just could not be so. Therefore, I reasoned it must be September (and I had figured out the day of the month was the 21st). But upon waking I find it is still only just gone August (thankfully, a whole chunk of year has not slipped by unoticed). What kind of person is lucid enough to deliberate month order and implications in their sleep anyway?

Short Posts

My darling Brother recently informed me that my blog posts are too long, so I will attempt to remedy this, starting with this one, obviously.

Gallery Gander

I visited the art gallery yesterday and spent a few hours entranced with the works of Julia Morison. Spread over 7 compartments, there were three themes:

The first section I examined was the meandering concentricities of "A Loop Around A Loop" a 20 year retrospective including more recent work produced especially for the exhibition. According to www.christchurchartgallery.org "The exhibition defies the traditional concept of a survey, instead multi-part installations juxtaposed against each other spiral and wrap around the gallery spaces, inviting viewers to ponder the notion of beginnings and endings, and the constant circling of ideas within ideas."

The larger-than-life canvases of "Gargantua's Petticoat" dominated the cavernous interior space. Many, like a maze for the mind, are based on repetitious woven patterns of thread and fabric that don't quite match up and yet that seems to be the very thing that holds each piece together as a composition.

And finally, multiple installations containing the repeating symbols, texture and inherent inferences of: lead, blood, clay, excretement, ash, iridesence, silver, mercury/mercuric oxide, gold and transparency. Yes, it is "modern art" and if you don't undestand what I've written; go see it for yourself (it's there til 23 October 2006). There is much thought process gone into it, it is calculated, yet almost alive.

Stille Nacht

It's never too late to start thinking about Christmas. I'm still humming this from last time... Silent Night in the original German.

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
alles schlaft, einsam wacht
nur das traute, hochheilige Paar,
holder Knabe in lockigem Haar,
schlaf in himmlischer Ruh', schlaf in himmlischer Ruh'.

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Hirten ers kund gemacht
durch der Engel Halleluja,
tont es laut von fern und nah:
Christ der Retter ist da, Christ der Retter ist da!

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Gottes sohn, oh wie lacht
Lieb' aus deinem gottlichen Mund,
da uns schlagt die rettende Stund'.
Christ in deiner Geburt, Christ in deiner Geburt!